


Ascendant

by Nicktatorship



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mass Effect - Freeform, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicktatorship/pseuds/Nicktatorship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three threads are born in the final moments of the Mass Effect trilogy, and the galaxy will be tested again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whatever it takes

There was comfort in knowing that she’d played her part. She’d missed the luxury of a single moment; being able to stop what she was doing, suck in a lungful of air and casually let it out without feeling the time was wasted. It hurt, but it didn’t matter. Not a limb in four didn’t ache, and she felt every instant of the breath in ribs that had to be cracked, but the moment overshone it all. The falls, the cuts, and the bruises could all shout their presence at her, but the victory had come, loud enough to drown out everything else.

“Best seats in the house,” said Shepard.

She and Anderson sat on the cool metal floor, watching the bursts of orange and red dance beyond the window. Some of them were Reapers, but most of the explosions between the Citadel and a battered Earth were from the fleet. Time would change that. Fix it. The Crucible was docked now.

“God, feels like years since I just ... sat down,” said Anderson.

The Admiral was slipping. Battered, bloody, yet still not broken. He’d taken as much as she had, maybe more from all those weeks on Earth. Leaving was hard, but Shepard could barely imagine what it would have been like to stay and see home fall apart around him- that felt like Palaven, Rannoch and Thessia, all rolled into one. No, she thought. Like Mindoir.

“Anderson? Stay with me, we’re almost through this.”

She kept her eyes on him. His eyes were only visible between his closing eyelids now, and she could tell that even that fragment of a gaze was a strain for him. If he could hold out, just to stay on this side of the brink, he might make it long enough to see the job done. If he could, then she could too.

“You did good, child. You did good. I’m... proud of you.”

Shepard moved her hand to her side, pushing her fingers against one of many wounds. The blood was sticky, and it was difficult to stay positive. No chance of a patrol dropping in on them, and she knew what came next. The last time she’d been injured like this on the Citadel, they’d both walked away. Not this time, she thought.

“Thank you, Sir. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Bullshit.” Anderson shook his head forcefully, and coughed up a spatter of blood. “All on you, Shepard. Nobody else could have done what you did, do whatever it takes.”

His eyes were closed by the time he finished talking, though his body still heaved with each stuttered breath, but not more than that. Shepard felt the slowness of her own breath, each inhale slow and hoarse from mouthfuls of smoke, ash and blood. Her own eyes were slipping. Rolling her head around gave her uneven glimpses of the room around her, of Anderson, and the chaos strewn through space beyond.

A burst of static sounded from her comm, followed by a crackle. Hackett’s voice was next.

“Commander?”

She glanced at Anderson, his eyes still closed. How long had they been there, she wondered. Did it matter, she wondered next.

“What do you need me to do?”

“We have a problem, Shepard.”

Those words again. She slowly let out her breath, and squeezed herself up off the floor. The wound in her abdomen sent daggers through her body, but she hobbled over to the console despite it.

“I’m here.”

“You’re a hero, Shepard. The best humanity’s ever had. You’ve done everything the Alliance has ever asked of you.”

“Admiral?” she asked.

Hackett’s first answer was silence. She looked back at Anderson; she’d gone through this with him already, and every moment of conversation was another before the Crucible fired. He was still sitting, barely conscious, but his mouth moved with every breath. She called Anderson’s name out, but there was no response from him either. Shepard finally heard something, a breath on the line, and eventually Hackett.

“I’m transferring control of the Crucible to you.”

The console in front of her flashed red immediately, and then changed to orange. A single beep later, and her omnitool lit up. It started flicking through the schematics of the now-linked Crucible and the Citadel.

“Sir?”

“When I sent you to extract Dr Kenson, you uncovered how close the Reapers were. You made the call that we needed, three hundred thousand batarians to save the rest of the galaxy,” said Hackett.

“I bought us time, sir. This isn’t saved.”

“It’s more than we had. You were chosen for a reason, Shepard. Then and now.”

The display on her omnitool stopped changing, and the console lit up green. The interface had changed, displaying the readouts of the Crucible’s power levels, the device itself now waiting for her to activate it.

“It’s primed, sir.”

“Wait. I told you about the scientists from the second world war...”

Shepard noticed something off to the side, in her peripheral vision, and creased her eyebrows. It was Anderson, almost gone, yet looked like he was still breathing; his mouth had continued to move all this time.

“About the first atomic bomb,” continued Hackett.

Anderson’s movements were troubling. She took a step back from the console, and then one toward him. His eyes were closed, but the breathing was wrong. It wasn’t breathing. His lips were moving too quickly.

“Some thought it could ignite the atmosphere.”

She’d seen it all along, but hadn’t heard it. The words were there, just waiting to be picked up by her ears. Barely over the hum of the Citadel, or Hackett’s voice, Anderson had three words, over and over.

Whatever it takes.

Shepard turned back to the console, flicked another glance at Anderson, and then spoke into the comm again. “What’s wrong with the Crucible, Admiral?”

“It’s no accident that the Reaper’s moved the Citadel here. The Earth for the rest of the galaxy.”

There was a price, a sacrifice that had to be made. Maybe this was one occasion a Batarian spectre could have worked. They’d do it without hesitation, some without needing the goal of stopping the Reapers.

“The fate of the galaxy is in your hands again. You have to do this, Commander.”

“Why me?” she asked. “The truth this time.”

“You were our weapon. Ruthless. Uncompromising. A wrecking ball we unleash on our enemies. Torfan, Nonuel, the Bahak System. There are orders the Alliance can’t sanction, and with you, we didn’t need to. That’s the Shepard we need now.”

I’m not that woman anymore, she thought. She closed her eyes, and dove into her thoughts.. Mindoir was never the same, but it was still there. This was different. Losing Earth, but then what was the choice? If it had been anyone else, even Anderson, they might have treated it as a choice, but it wasn’t a choice. This was responsibility. Something that must be done. A flash of a face crept into her mind, the curly smile and bouncing voice of Mordin Solus. They were his words, but she felt them now. Everything until this moment and even this one, the very last of them, it always had to be her.

“I’ll do it.”

The response was a pause again, though instead of Hackett’s voice, Shepard thought she heard his breath go out. He didn’t have the right words, and the ones he found still took some time.

“The fleet will stay to protect the crucible for as long as it can. Billions will live because of you, Commander.”

“I can’t do this, Admiral. This conversation. If this is the end, then you get Vakarian on the comm.”

“We’ll tr- we’ll do it.”

 

***

 

The cockpit of the Normandy felt crowded to Garrus, though the only ones there with him were Joker and EDI. He stood with his body leaning against EDI’s chair, an arm fixed in a cast, and a bandage covering the left side of his face.

“Sounds like you could use the company of an old friend,” he said.

He heard Shepard laugh over the comm, and then reply. “I think we’re well past friends now, Vakarian.”

“True,” he answered. The Turian laughed as well, shaking his head ever so slightly. He could feel himself lingering, and the heaviness of his head. Pain suppressants were still fresh. “They tell me you’re having a time of it.”

“They tell you how?”

“Just that you needed your boyfriend. How bad is it?”

They heard Shepard’s voice start a half-dozen times before she said actually something. It didn’t sound like her anymore. “We’re losing Earth,” she began. “The Crucible will strip the atmosphere, killing everything on it. It’s my finger on the trigger.”

Garrus ground his mandibles together, and bunched his hand into a fist. “Where are you, Shepard?”

He didn’t know if he wanted the answer, but it came anyway, and in two awful words.

“The Citadel.”

“How long do you have?”

“The rest of my life,” answered Shepard.

“That’s what I’ve always wanted. Of course, I did factor on it being at least as long as mine.

He heard her laugh through the comm, “Ow, don’t make me smile.”

“Wasn’t that my line? I’ve got brand new scars to show you, too.”

The line was silent.

Garrus turned to Joker, who looked down at the Normandy’s console and then shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head again.

“We’ve lost the signal, Garrus,” said EDI.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Shepard’s hung up on calls a dozen times before,” said Joker.

“I know what it means, but thanks.” The Turian turned his head away, and muttered faintly. “Meet you at the bar, Commander.”

 


	2. The Night of Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Asimov takes on refugees from a colony deep in the Terminus systems.

The rain ran up along the window, leaving behind dotted trails. It had been so long since she’d seen rain that it took Lillian a few minutes to realise what it was she found peculiar. Space was once a novelty, but it was so common to her now that the particulars of the terrestrial had become unknowns. Even then, there was something beyond the novelty that she still couldn’t place, and instead watched the rain trickle up along the window. The shuttle rattled as it continued its plunge through the atmosphere, sending vibrations through the hull that continued on to her harness frame.

She clenched her hands against the cylindrical metal and pulled until her palms began to ache, and it carried through to the expression on her face.

“Relax.”

She jolted her head to the side, still focused on trying to keep the harness steady, but distracted by the sound enough to see the source of the voice was wrapped up in a security uniform.

“It’s not supposed to rattle. It’s not set right and it’s rattling,” were her words, somehow making it past her locked teeth.

“Always feels like that, Doc. You’re safe. Relax. Even blink.”

She turned her head a little further, until she could see the face of whoever seemed so casual about what felt like the annihilation they’d been expecting. He had the name Franklin stitched into the left side of his chest, and even it didn’t seem as permanent as the toothy smile painted on his face. It was a familiar one, meaning she’d passed him in the Asimov’s corridors at some point, but that was the extent of the familiarity. She looked him over, committed the name to memory, and turned her head back to the window- all without a single flicker of her eyelids.

“Arvuna, right? You ever been, Doc?”

“No.”

In sixty seconds, she’d had a different answer.

 

She knew nothing of the moon beyond what was in the briefing- a handful of settlements spread across what little surface Avuna held, and the rest besides was water. Setting foot on to the brimming green plain at the edge of one settlment, the grass compacted half an inch beneath her foot, and he muds beneath could have held on to her shoe if she’d given them the chance.

It smelled differently to what Lillian expected - the masses of water on Earth had pushed her instincts toward the salted sprays that were a constant by the sea, when the composition of Avuna’s environment brought the smell closer to rain after a hot day. She smiled and looked back toward the shuttle. Roy was doing it too, snorting balls of air into his nose, and did it with his eyes kept narrow - a window into the slow churn of his thoughts.

“God... that’s what comin’ for us, isn’t it.”

She frowned, and juked her head to the left. “Water’s... coming for us?”

He shook his head and continued the march forward, until he came alongside her. “This won’t be fun, yeah? We’ve room for thirty, maybe fifty at a stretch, and there’s still a hundred in this settlement. Take it.”

Lillian glanced at Roy, then at the arm he held out toward her, and finally at the pistol in his grip. She laughed in staccato, and added, “No, no... no.”

“They’re people, Doc. Tired, hungry and scared. And we’re leaving most of them here.”

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from the weapon, “Right, and I’m a doctor. What am I going to do, shoot them?”

“Hey, I just wanna be ready. How it plays out is up to them.”

 

The dropship lifted from the surface without any noticeable slowness, though it wouldn’t have been a surprise, due to the number of passengers they’d taken on board. There were only fifty-three of them, all they’d been able to get aboard before the call came.

_Something’s wrong with the comms._

The words were devoid of clarity, refusing to specify what the something could be, even though both Lillian and Roy had guessed at the cause - if only in name.

_Just get us back. We’ll come back if we can._

She mouthed the words again, these ones hers, feeling the bitterness of the syllables as her tongue flicked against her lips.

“How long?” she blurted out.

“Asimov in a hard three.”

Her eyes went to the window, wanting to shut it out and hope it would make it all go away, bu it was there and it was coming. Roy looked at her, then followed her gaze to the window.

“Shit... is that a reaper?” asked Roy.

She watched at the light coursed through the black of space, engulfing their sight of the stars until every way they looked was filled with a tidal wave of colour. It was impossible to be sure, but it felt to them both as though the light was surging toward them, and expected it would soon crash against their dropship.

“I don’t know,” she answered.


	3. Whispers in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of the Shuddered Whisper begin the next stage of their journey.

The starboard deck of the Shuddered Whisper looked out into the infinite reach of space, where the galaxy endured and the stars waited to be touched again. Sarah Coleman stood by the shutter control and stared at the nothingness between each point of light. She thought of the galaxy beyond the corridors of the Whisper, scratching at the door of hope that they’d find something this time.

“You know this is a mistake, human.”

Keflen was back. She could have done without the Salarian’s particular brand of pessimism. It had been constant over the past few weeks, but it had become especially grating in the last day. Every time he came by, his twitches and lip-lickings were more pronounced, but it was the unfinished words that made her realise.

“None of us are ready to stop being lost.”

“I don’t... no, I’m not sca- this is not em-.” He stopped for a few seconds, preferring to blink at Sarah rather than answer her proper. His eyes circled the room in between each flash, preferring it to the expanse of space. “I am ready to be found, but worry what will do the finding there.”

“I agree with Captain Toranis on this. If it’s not civilisation, then survivors, or supplies at the very least.”

“For some,” replied Keflen.

Sarah turned her gaze back to the window, and poured her thoughts into the blackness beyond. The count was down to days now, and that would go to months if they changed course now.

“It’s the Captain’s decision, and one that better suits you than it does he. Let us take our chances at Eden Prime.”

“Decision made already. What choice do I have?”

Sarah felt the back of her neck tighten, and her shoulders growing stiff. Keflen stood idle, watching her, and twitching his long fingers in a wave. She resumed her observations of the stars, occasionally peering back at the Salarian.

“The Captain wants to see you,” he said, a full five minutes after he first entered.

Sarah grunted then replied, stretching the single word into a sentence. “What?”

“The Turian. Toranis. He wants to see you.”

She pushed away from the window and turned her body toward Keflen. Her breath felt too thick for her throat, and the same tension these talks brought crept deeper into the base of her neck. She pressed her hand against it and squeezed.

“No, what’s the reason for- nevermind.”

 

***

 

Sarda Vos sat at the helm, his thick tapping at the controls as Sarah stepped through the door. His hand moved with a speed that seemed far quicker than his shape should allow, but there was an uncommon grace to the motions. He stopped for a second to twist his head slightly, but resumed without acknowledging her.

The Captain looked away from the viewport, and dipped his head toward her, “The Salarian is getting quicker. It wasn’t necessary to fetch you myself.”

“I would’ve preferred it,” she replied.

“We have a problem, Coleman.”

Sarah moved further inside the bridge of the Whisper as Toranis paced toward the helm. She gave a nod to Vos in the pilot’s chair, and looked at the readouts. The sensor display showed a shadow that eclipsed their sizeable freighter, though it lay dormant in space.

“That’s got to be the relay,” she said.

“Bring up the visuals,” Toranis said to Vos.

The portly pilot waved an acknowledgement at the Captain. A screen flashed an image that had crept into each of their nightmares, elongated metal and tendrils as thick as the Whisper.

“What do we do?” asked Sarah.

Vos grappled at the helm, moving his robust fingers far quicker than seemed likely for their size. The screen flashed through charts of space, too quick for either Sarah or Toranis to read, just orange lines and circles over extensive black.

“There must be a way to pass it,” said the Captain.

“We shut down,” wheezed Vos, “Shields and scanners run through on silent.”

“Acceptable.”

Sarah nodded at the Captain’s words, affording him a momentary glance, and then looked back out at space. The distances were too far for her to see it, and if this worked, it wouldn’t come to that anyway. Still, she found the curiosity gnawed at her. One of those that had wrought so much thing that had wrought so much destruction was out there.

“I do hope this works, Captain, but I’d really like to know what it’s waiting for.”

“No, you wouldn’t. None of us would.”

“How is the Hanar?” she asked.

“Come.”

 

***

 

Seeing it lay motionless on the makeshift bed made Sarah feel queasy. She took some solace in not being the only one; Keflen’s weak stomach meant it was the one place he didn’t visit on his regular bouts of wandering, which was almost incentive enough for her to stay there. The more translucent sections of the Hanar’s body had taken on a faint tint of red, which on its naturally blue tone, resembled a patchy discoloration.

“I wouldn’t ask Vos to press on as I have if our benefactor was in better health,” said Toranis.

Sarah nodded, and took a few steps toward the bed. She reached her hand down toward one of the tentacles, and squished a finger into the jelly.

“He’s warm,” she said.

“If it were you lying there, I’d know what that meant.”

Sarah winced, but she knew that the Captain was right. A Hanar was a complete unknown to them. It could have already been dead and they wouldn’t have known.

“Ascendant, wasn’t it? The name he gave?” asked Sarah.

“Yes. The manifest had Darymed, but these ones always have their two names. Ascendant or Darymed, we owe this hanar our lives. We’ll see that the debt is paid, even if we need to spend eight months flying to Kahje.”


End file.
